


i fight because i have to

by Spoofymcgee



Series: AU-gust 2020 [1]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: AU-gust 2020, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Boga Is A Horse, Fae & Fairies, Gen, Obi-Wan Kenobi Is A Knight, R2 Is A Goose, Shmi Skywalker is Awesome, but shmi skywalker wielding a pitchfork, i know it's supposed to be fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25667596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoofymcgee/pseuds/Spoofymcgee
Summary: obi-wan kenobi, on his way back to the chapel of the order of the jedi, loses his way and manages to end up in the middle of a corn field.shmi skywalker has dealt with people trying to steal her crops before, and she can't afford to lose any produce this month if she wants to put food on the table.anakin skywalker is different than the rest of the village children. they've never cared, but the nobility considers fey worse than the devil. don't they?day 1: fantasy au
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Beru Whitesun, Anakin Skywalker & Shmi Skywalker, Owen Lars/Beru Whitesun, Shmi Skywalker & Beru Whitesun
Series: AU-gust 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861135
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33





	i fight because i have to

“Get away from my fields, you thieving scumbags!” Boga starts beneath him as a short woman charges out of the maize stalks wielding a very big pitchfork. She draws back at the sight of him, armorclad and shield bearing the Order of the Jedi’s crest.    
“Sir Jedi,” She murmurs, dropping the pitchfork and bowing. “My apologies, I didn’t realize-.”

“No, no, the fault is mine. I beg your pardon for intruding on your land; I must have strayed farther from the road than I had thought.” He slips off his horse rather gracefully; the armor of his Order is lighter than most. Pulling off his helmet and cradling it in his arm.   
“Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi, Order of the Jedi.” He says.   
“Shmi Skywalker.” She replies. He bends and lifts her pitchfork, offering it back to her with a smile. “Do you have a place of lodging for the night?” 

“I’m afraid not.” Shifting slightly, he reaches up to lay a hand on Boga’s neck. “Are there any inns nearby?”    
“No.” She says after a moment, expression unreadable. “There aren’t. But you could stay with us.”    
Obi-Wan frowns a little. The offer sounds very reluctant.    
“I-”   
“Mother?” The young, shaky voice carries, still as the night is, from the rows of maize.    
“It’s all right, Anakin.” Shmi calls, not taking her eyes off Obi-Wan. Her grip on the pitchfork tightens. “You can come out.” The child steps carefully out from between the stalks, fixing Obi-Wan with a suspicious glare.    
“This is my son, Anakin.” Shmi says, pulling the boy close. Obi-Wan crouches, offering a hand.    
“Hello there.” He says softly. Anakin shakes it cautiously, then retreats back to his mother, stare more baleful than accusing. Pushing cornsilk locks back from his mismatched eyes with a tanned hand, he asks: “You’re a knight?” Obi-Wan smiles. 

“Yes. I’m on my way back to the chapel, but I appear to have lost my way.”   
Shmi glances upwards quickly. The first stars are beginning to twinkle, but there’s no moon tonight,   
“It’s getting late.” She says. “Sir Kenobi?”   
“If it isn’t that much of a bother, I’d be much obliged.” She nods, and he’s probably imagining the grimness in the set of her shoulders, but- “Are you quite sure it’s alright? I’m fully capable of sleeping in a field or stable.” Shmi shakes her.   
“Bandits.” She says, and sets off at a brisk pace. Obi-Wan grabs Boga’s reins and follows, somewhat bemused. Anakin’s head gleams silvery gold in the starlight and glitters off pointed tips of his canines as he flashes Obi-Wan a quick grin before scampering ahead.

“Shmi?” A young woman answers the door when Anakin knocks, a little wrap of blankets in her arms. “Is everything all right?”   
“Yes, Beru, just fine.” Shmi takes the bundle from her, cradling it gently. “We have a guest for the night.” Obi-Wan steps it behind her, Anakin darts over to her reaching little arms up, and she passes the parcel to him. He grins down at it as one arm reaches up to grab one of his pointed ears, giggling. “This is Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi, Order of the Jedi.”   
“Sir.” Beru greets him, wearing the same unreadable expression as Shmi’s.   
“Will your steed be alright in the stable?” Shmi asks, shepherding Anakin over to a solid wooden chair at a small table.    
“Boga’s never given me reason to believe otherwise.” He says. Light flickers in a little stone fireplace against the far wall, pot set over it. Shmi nods, walking over to a shelf near the table and pulling down a loaf of bread. She sets it on the table and then grabs a stack of wooden bowls and a ladle from the table, striding over to the fireplace and beginning to spoon stew into them.    
“You can leave your helmet here if you’d like, sir.” Beru tells him, then turns to address Shmi. “Sandrunner came by the bakery today and said that Watto might raise grain tax.” This is met with exclamations of dismay from the other two. “I’m not sure that I believe him though, because he raised it last winter. Grandmother Lars is on her deathbed again, which means Cliegg bought a good amount of bread and cakes for the wake, which was nice because he always tips well, even if he’s still too proud to accept Owen’s decision.” Obi-Wan sits gingerly on the chair next to Anakin, who’s still playing with the tiny child.   
“Any word of him yet?” Shmi asks, placing a bowl on the table in front of Obi-Wan. Beru’s face falls a little as she pulls out the chair on Anakin’s other side.    
“No.”   
“I’m sure we’ll hear something soon.” Shmi says in a comforting tone, setting down food for Anakin and Beru before going back to get her own.   
“Artoo nearly bit off Maul’s nose today when he came to get Feral.” Anakin shares with a mischievous grin, setting the baby down in a small cradle. “It was funny.” Shmi sighs.    
“Anakin.”   
“What? It was!”    
“Maul?” Obi-Wan asks, a little hesitantly. Three gazes swivel to him as though they’d almost forgotten he was there. 

“One of our neighbors.” Shmi answers. “He lives two farms over with his older brother Savage and younger, Feral.”   
“Do you know if-how long ago did he move here?”   
“I-”   
“Ten years ago.” Anakin answers, jaw set defiantly, as though challenging Obi-Wan to disagree. “Just after Feral was born. We’re the same age, they’ve been here my whole life.” He nods instead, accepting the answer. He has no quarrel with Maul anymore. It’s not what Qui-Gon would have wanted. The meal progresses, and the conversation slips back to a more comfortable pace between the three. Obi-Wan stays silent. 

It’s late once he finally gathers the courage to ask. Shmi’s sitting on the worn rug at the center of the room. There’s a large grey goose leaning against her side, presumably Artoo from the way he snapped at Obi-Wan’s fingers earlier. She sent Anakin off to bed, and Beru had gone with him, taking the baby and citing work early the next day. He’s sitting in the same chair, methodically cleaning his armor. 

“Anakin’s father,” He asks softly. “Was he fey?”   
Shmi stiffens, missing a stitch in the socks she’s knitting. “Yes.” She responds, voice tight. Obi-Wan accepts this with a nod. There’s a pause and then: “Doesn’t your code have something about killing them.”   
“Not unless they’re criminals.” He answers. And-” He lapses into quiet for a moment.   
“And there are stories. Knights come back to the chapel injured, missing limbs. They tell stories of children with pointed ears, particolored eyes, attacking at the slightest threat. I like having both my arms.” Her lips twitch, ever so slightly. “And other tales of kind healers in the woods, horned warriors coming to the defense of humans who protect the forests and don’t harm the trees.” 

They fall back into silence.    
“I took Beru in after her parents died.” Shmi says, abruptly. “She was eight. Anakin hadn’t been born yet, and I was living alone on the farm. It used to be my parents and they had no other children. Lord Watto couldn’t find anyone else to give it to, and I’ve proved my worth since then. I had my son two years later, and when he was nine she married Owen Lars. He was a farmer and a hunter, very good with a bow. One of Watto’s knights noticed and took him for training. He’s with the militia, they’ve been on the other side of the lord’s lands since a few weeks after the wedding. Jari, the baby, is their daughter. Cliegg, Owen’s father wasn’t very pleased when they decided to live with me rather than him.” She hesitates. “Beru’s parents-two of Lord Watto’s knights were here that evening, twelve years ago. They were drunk, and were trying to burn the Whitesuns fields. Her father tried to stop them, and-well. Her mother grabbed her and tried to run, but one had a bow and surprisingly good aim, as inebriated as they were.”   
Obi-Wan is quiet for a moment.    
“I’m so sorry.”   
“As am I.” 

They sit in front of the fire, little physical distance, and worlds apart all the same.

**Author's Note:**

> probably more medieval au than it should be but it has faeries and shmi wanted a pitchfork.


End file.
